Ficlet (old!): "Unless You Ask Me To" (Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek)
This has been sitting in my drawer - or rather in my 'unfinished' folder - for quite a while. I wrote this after 2008 Skate Canada where Evan lost to Ryan Bradley (among other people), and I think it was the result of a conversation I had with Cel, about dominatrix!Johnny, complete with latex pants and a nipple ring...
It's bad and there was going to be more (full length porn;)), but I don't think I'm ever going to finish it. But I know some of you are probably going to find this entertaining. And it makes me giggle. So, have some Evan on a leash...
Title: Unless You Ask Me To
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Rating: R
Word count: 513
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The events described in the story are not real. Not intended as libel, no money is being made.
“Now you know how it feels,” Johnny says and traces the lines of Evan’s face with his fingers, tilting his chin up to make Evan look at him.
Evan wishes he wouldn’t have to, because the look of amused schadenfreude on Johnny’s face hurts almost as much as the fact that he. Lost. To. Ryan. Bradley. Involuntarily, he grimaces.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Johnny singsongs and slides his fingers into Evan’s hair, combing lightly for a moment before he grabs a fistful and tugs, just hard enough to make Evan hiss. “Doesn’t it?” he repeats when Evan doesn’t reply and tugs once more - this time not at the hair, but at the leash he’s holding wrapped around his other hand. The leash attached to a collar around Evan’s neck.
“Yeah, it sucks,” he snaps and wishes his boyfriend wasn’t such a sucker for theatricality. Though there are certain perks to that little kink of Johnny’s, Evan admits as he lets his eyes travel down the thighs wrapped in snug latex, all the way down to the high-heeled shoes that make Johnny’s legs look... spectacular. Johnny’s chest is bare, but there’s a ring in his left nipple that Evan doesn’t recall ever being there - piercing must be back in fashion in NYC. Just as he starts wondering how Johnny’s going to conceal that underneath his onesie costumes, a sharp - but light, careful - whip jerks him back into reality.
“What the - ?!” He looks back up at Johnny. “Did you just whip me?” he asks, incredulous. And certainly enough, Johnny dangles a whip in front of his face. The handle seems to be studded with rhinestones.
“You won’t talk to me that way,” Johnny informs him with an angelic smile. “Understood?”
“Don’t you think this is a little - ouch! Johnny! You can’t expect me to let you whip -“
“Shh,” Johnny advises, grabbing Evan’s wrists before Evan can initiate a wrestling match. He then drops down to his knees in front of Evan, so their faces are level once again. “You know the rules. I beat you at Skate America, so it’s my game.”
Evan does know the rules, of course. They started playing by them long ago. He just never thought it would come to the use of... torture instruments!
“I let you tie me up after Nationals. And you didn’t even win then,” Johnny continues, letting his voice grow quieter, softer. That is true and it still makes Evan shiver, the memory of such sheer intimacy and trust; he still can’t believe that Johnny let him do that, that he could let go like that. Suddenly, the whip doesn’t look quite as menacing.
“Okay,” he nods.
“Good,” Johnny says and stands up, letting the tassels of the whip brush across Evan’s shoulders and neck. He comes to stand behind Evan and bends down, lips warm against Evan’s ear: “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” he whispers, voice all silk and velvet. He grazes Evan’s earlobe with his teeth, a sensation that makes goosebumps rise on Evan’s nape. “Unless you ask me to.”
~fin
* Johnny's last line - "I won't hurt you unless you ask me to." - that's actually a Placebo lyric, or well, a lyric from Molks's side project: Brian Molko feat. Timo Maas - Pictures.
It's bad and there was going to be more (full length porn;)), but I don't think I'm ever going to finish it. But I know some of you are probably going to find this entertaining. And it makes me giggle. So, have some Evan on a leash...
Title: Unless You Ask Me To
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Rating: R
Word count: 513
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The events described in the story are not real. Not intended as libel, no money is being made.
“Now you know how it feels,” Johnny says and traces the lines of Evan’s face with his fingers, tilting his chin up to make Evan look at him.
Evan wishes he wouldn’t have to, because the look of amused schadenfreude on Johnny’s face hurts almost as much as the fact that he. Lost. To. Ryan. Bradley. Involuntarily, he grimaces.
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Johnny singsongs and slides his fingers into Evan’s hair, combing lightly for a moment before he grabs a fistful and tugs, just hard enough to make Evan hiss. “Doesn’t it?” he repeats when Evan doesn’t reply and tugs once more - this time not at the hair, but at the leash he’s holding wrapped around his other hand. The leash attached to a collar around Evan’s neck.
“Yeah, it sucks,” he snaps and wishes his boyfriend wasn’t such a sucker for theatricality. Though there are certain perks to that little kink of Johnny’s, Evan admits as he lets his eyes travel down the thighs wrapped in snug latex, all the way down to the high-heeled shoes that make Johnny’s legs look... spectacular. Johnny’s chest is bare, but there’s a ring in his left nipple that Evan doesn’t recall ever being there - piercing must be back in fashion in NYC. Just as he starts wondering how Johnny’s going to conceal that underneath his onesie costumes, a sharp - but light, careful - whip jerks him back into reality.
“What the - ?!” He looks back up at Johnny. “Did you just whip me?” he asks, incredulous. And certainly enough, Johnny dangles a whip in front of his face. The handle seems to be studded with rhinestones.
“You won’t talk to me that way,” Johnny informs him with an angelic smile. “Understood?”
“Don’t you think this is a little - ouch! Johnny! You can’t expect me to let you whip -“
“Shh,” Johnny advises, grabbing Evan’s wrists before Evan can initiate a wrestling match. He then drops down to his knees in front of Evan, so their faces are level once again. “You know the rules. I beat you at Skate America, so it’s my game.”
Evan does know the rules, of course. They started playing by them long ago. He just never thought it would come to the use of... torture instruments!
“I let you tie me up after Nationals. And you didn’t even win then,” Johnny continues, letting his voice grow quieter, softer. That is true and it still makes Evan shiver, the memory of such sheer intimacy and trust; he still can’t believe that Johnny let him do that, that he could let go like that. Suddenly, the whip doesn’t look quite as menacing.
“Okay,” he nods.
“Good,” Johnny says and stands up, letting the tassels of the whip brush across Evan’s shoulders and neck. He comes to stand behind Evan and bends down, lips warm against Evan’s ear: “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” he whispers, voice all silk and velvet. He grazes Evan’s earlobe with his teeth, a sensation that makes goosebumps rise on Evan’s nape. “Unless you ask me to.”
~fin
* Johnny's last line - "I won't hurt you unless you ask me to." - that's actually a Placebo lyric, or well, a lyric from Molks's side project: Brian Molko feat. Timo Maas - Pictures.